


Leopold Fitz and the Christmas Light Fight

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: But he's cute, Christmas, Christmas Lights, Fitz takes his decorating a little too seriously, M/M, and is also a horrible neighbor, so he's got that going for him, this is my love letter to hallmark holiday movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After four years of merely placing second in the neighborhood's Annual Holiday Lighting & Decorating Contest, Fitz is determined to come out on top. He's got everything he needs and his plans are firmly in place. 

</p>
<p>The only problem?

</p>
<p>It's Christmas Eve Eve and his archenemy and neighbor, A. Mackenzie, hasn't made a single move to decorate his lot.

</p>
<p>Obviously, in the eternal words of Gial Ackbar, it's a trap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jingle Bell Time is a Swell Time

Obsession is a strong word, but while Jemma's implication would normally merit a response of the most indignant kind, Fitz can't be bothered to waste his energy. Not this late in the game and certainly not while he's in the middle of untangling yards upon yards of Christmas lights. 'Tis the season, afterall.

"Fitz, really... it's been years of this. Can't you accept that your neighbor may have better things to do than to plot your demise?"

With a final strategic tug, the lights come loose, and if Jemma weren’t in the room Fitz would probably do something embarrassing (like the time, last year, when he accidentally started happy dancing along to his own a capella rendition of Jingle Bell Rock without realizing that Jemma’s girlfriend Daisy was in the room (or the time before that when he insisted on walking around in nothing more than his tacky Christmas sweater and a smile… only to be forced outside without his pants in the middle of a snow storm due to a freak electrical fire that was _definitely_ not caused by his Christmas light display)). Ever the mature adult, he smiles instead and takes his victory in stride. It’s only the pointed huff from Jemma’s direction that manages to pull his attention from his beautifully organized lighting paraphernalia.

“We’ve been through this before, Jemma, so don’t you dare give me that look. A. Mackenzie is an evil mastermind of epic proportions! He’s a scrooge of the highest level! Even worse, if my sources are correct, he’s the secretary of the neighborhood watch and you _know_ what that means.” Arms raised high in the air to punctuate his train of thought, Jemma's unimpressed eye roll only serves to take the slightest amount of wind from Fitz's sails. "That man has eyes everywhere. He's cunning like a holiday ninja, and I am not about to be bested by him for the fifth year in a row. It's unacceptable and I refuse! _Refuse!_ "

Turning away from his best friend and platonic life partner, Fitz allows his eyes to fall upon the schematics for this year's display. Tacked above the intricate plans are all of his past failures - picture after picture of their two houses that only serve to show just how diabolical a foe A. Mackenzie has proven to be.

"Just... just look at these pictures, Jems. Ever since I moved in, this man - this _monster_ \- has desecrated everything that makes the Christmas season gay." Choosing to ignore her pointed snort, Fitz grabs one of his retractable pointers from the clutter on his desk to better explain, using the implement to help highlight the facts with all the fierce determination of a man-at-arms. "Here we are, my very first Christmas, with an admittedly impressive display if I say so myself. At least, it would be impressive if I lived literally _anywhere_ else. I mean, I had no way of knowing what I was getting into when I signed the lease. They didn't mention that my future neighbor was a withdrawn man with sociopathic tendencies that he chooses to express via holiday decorating.

"I know that you think I'm overreacting, but look at the pictures from last year! Who else but a madman would ever think to use _actual_ coats of armor as a part of their scene? The whole 'holy knight, silent knight, Gladys Knight' idea? Only a crazy person would think that was appropriate for this most hallowed of seasons!"

"Oh, but I loved what he did last year! It was so clever how he went about arranging them, especially with the ball gag."

Physically reeling from her traitorous words, Fitz does his best to stay grounded, placing both hands on the table and steadying himself with a series of deep, calming breaths. Had the betrayal not been so obvious he would have been sure that it was Jack Frost stabbing him in the heart with an icicle. Sadly, it was no mere holiday imp causing him thematically appropriate pain. No, it’s just his former best friend. Taking his enemy’s side. _Unbelievable_.

"I can't _believe_ that you're on his side, Jemma! He's not even original. Two years ago he synced his lights to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's seminal classic 'Wizards in Winter', nearly giving old Mrs. May across the street a seizure due to his hubris. It’s old hat and it cheapens the very notion of the holiday."

"For goodness sakes, Melinda May is barely 50, if that! If she ever heard you call her old it would be the last thing you did. Of course, aside from the fact that you have no sense of age, you’re completely ignoring the fact that she loved the display so much that she decided to use it as a backdrop for her STDs."

“Jemma. We’ve spoken about this. Literally no one else in the world calls save the dates STDs. You are alone in this, and you are wrong. Seeing as how you’ve so recently become a no-good holiday traitor? You’re _doubly_ wrong.”

“Leopold Fitz.” It’s said with such an air of command that Fitz can’t help but guiltily peek over his shoulder to make sure his mother is still a safe distance away in Scotland. “Oh, stop it with the squirrely face. This is getting serious now and you’re starting to worry me. You haven’t even met this man face to face but this imagined rivalry between you is starting to reach unacceptable levels.

“It was one thing when you were planning the perfect light display purely for the joy of it, but you've lost me with the evidence board and the stalking and the conspiracy theories.”

Running his hands through his curls, Fitz barely manages to resist pulling his hair out.

“It's not stalking to take pictures of my own house, Jemma.”

“Don't you dare try to reason your way out of this! You've been cataloguing his Christmas decorations for years, and don't think that I've forgotten about your keeping tabs of his coming and goings in your 'secret' candy cane notebook!”

Fitz can feel his face flushing in the face of her judgment, skin stretched hot and tight, though he honestly can't decide whether it's over the fact that he's been caught red-handed or if it's more about the unnecessary addition of finger quotes. Jemma has always enjoyed her finger quotes. Evil woman. With a firm nod of the head, he makes his choice. Both. It's definitely both.

“Surveillance is a _necessity_ when you're at war, Jemma. It's not like him to go without decorating this late in the game - tomorrow is Christmas Eve and he hasn't done anything! He's changing the game and I refuse to give him the benefit of the element of surprise.”

Sighing deeply (something she's been prone to lately), Jemma gathers her coat before heading towards the door. For just a moment, Fitz allows himself the fantasy that the lecture is over, but then she's turning back with an earnest pout and a serious case of the puppy dog eyes. Again, he feels the phantom glare of his mother's eyes from across the Atlantic.

“Please, just… try to remember why you used to love putting up decorations. You used to enjoy it, but this isn't happiness, Fitz. You owe it to yourself to be happy on Christmas.”

Clearly satisfied that she's done everything possible, she leaves without another word. Snorting back his annoyance, Fitz returns to the yards of twinkle lights and does his best to forget everything else.

Happiness is overrated when there's victory to be had, and frankly, these lights aren't going to hang themselves.


	2. Chapter 2: Olden Times and Ancient Rhymes

It's only after the sun just starts to peek over the hedges that Fitz allows himself to collapse into the overstuffed armchair that's been strategically placed by the windows facing A. Mackenzie's house. What Jemma calls paranoia and overkill Fitz calls constant vigilance.

Even though he ran out of coffee hours ago, he can still feel the thrum of the holiday spirit surging underneath his skin (which, contrary to everyone's concern, has absolutely nothing to do with the questionable ADHD diagnosis his mother bestowed upon him back in Primary). It's an entirely different feeling from the twitchiness that's taken him over for the past week, having less to do with his internal chemistry and the joy of the season and more to do with the lack of movement from A. Mackenzie's house.

Unsettling, is what it is. Deeply unsettling.

Covered by only the slightest dusting of snow, the Victorian on the other side of the fence is disconcertingly bare. This is the latest that anyone in their cul-de-saq has ever waited to decorate a lot - even the Koenig brothers had everything in place last weekend. Granted, Fitz has been postponing his decorating until he could delay it no longer in the hopes of crushing his neighbor's cruel intentions, but there comes a time in every man's life when he needs to lay it all on the line.

And so, Leopold Fitz's three-pronged plan for Christmas domination kicked off last night once the sun had gone done and the street lights had come up. It went a little something like this...

**Stage One: Lights**

_On the night of Christmas Eve Eve, not a neighbor was stirring  
(not even that good-for-nothing louse Ward, who doles out raisins when Halloween is occurring... what an asshole)_  
_as Leopold Fitz set his ladder with care, climbing each rung with Christmassy flair._

_First icicle lights were strung 'round and 'round (not once did Fitz falter or slip towards the ground)._  
_He tugged and arranged so the cords were pulled tight 'til their blinking and twinkling sent cheer through the night._  
_Next hung were the candy canes, wreaths, and fake snow - each selected and checked for their holiday glow._

_Pleased with his progress Fitz climbed down the ladder, to take a quick break and to unload his bladder._

_Once refreshed and some lighter, he set upon making his yard a bit brighter._  
_Making sure to include his new Jewish neighbors, Fitz set upon being more inclusive in his labors._  
_Along all the fence dreidels and stars came alight, a not-subtle nod t’wards the Festival of Lights_  
_(yes, he’s pandering shamelessly for votes from Pietro and Wanda. It’s only a matter of time ‘fore he’s decorating for Kwanzaa)._  
_Once done he set the menorah in all of its glory, followed of course by the manger and that whole nativity story._  
_Over bushes and shrubs lit netting was draped; ‘twas a hassle to get the things perfectly shaped._

_Taking in all his progress his eyes came alight, for surely this year A. Mackenzie he'd smite._  
_As the sun started to rise he tidied up like a mouse, all quiet and sneaky he crept t'wards his house._  
_Part one out of three was completed with care, leaving our hero to revel in his chair._

Poem completed, he's contemplating words that rhyme with Mackenzie, Krampus, and fiend for the next section when a snicker nearly jolts him out of his chair.

"Oh, my god. Jemma said you were losing it, but it's one thing to hear it from her and it's a completely different experience to listen as you plot your Christmas revenge via rhyme."

"Shut up, Daisy."

Rather than acknowledge Fitz’s poor attitude, Daisy traipses further into the room in order to drape herself across the antique rocking chair across from him. There are candy canes sticking out of her vest pockets and she smells strongly of peppermint, but all of that is nothing compared to the wicked smirk that’s stretched across her smug little face.

“Don’t be so defensive, Fitz. I mean, sure, some people see Christmas as the perfect time to celebrate with their loved ones, but I’m not going to judge you for holing up in your house to write vengeful poetry about Christmas decorating. No, sir. Wouldn’t dream of judging you for _that!_ ”

Unwrapping a candy cane with palpable glee, she sinks deeper into the cushions before meeting Fitz’s eyes and continuing. If she drools around the candy while talking… well, he can’t help it if Jemma fell for a slob.

“Now, I did what you asked, but before we go any further I need you to swear on your life that Jemma won’t find out about this.”

It’s tempting to be difficult about this, and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Fitz and Daisy knocked heads… but this thing between them is so much bigger than a spat of friendly antagonism. At the end of the day, it’s bigger than everything because there is nothing more important than wiping the floor with A. Mackenzie.

“Alright,” he sighs before holding a palm out. “Jemma won’t find out about your involvement but I’m going to need at least two candy canes before I feel comfortable pinky promising with you.”

He can see the reluctance all over her face, but there’s only a moment of hesitation before she’s pulling the candy from her hoard, slapping it into his hand, and presenting her pinky. It’s all one smooth motion and Fitz can’t help but admire Daisy’s grace even as he’s linking fingers and pledging his silence. Candy still firmly planted in her mouth, Daisy leans forward with all the determination of a dust bunny (that is to say, very little, but beggars can't be choosers).

“So, here’s the thing. All my recon went nowhere. I went knocking on the front door yesterday with some cookies from Costco and you know that those are no joke Fitz, I put in the effort, but it was all for nothing. His truck was in the driveway but all the lights were off and he didn’t answer when I rang the bell. Either he was passed out or he wasn’t there.

“I took some initiative and let myself into his mailbox to see if there were any clues to be had, but it was clean. That’s where it gets interesting. You know Mike Peterson?” The apparent look of confusion on Fitz’s face at the name earns him an eye roll, but Fitz is too deep into the story to care. “Seriously, Fitz. He’s your mail man. He’s been working this route since before you moved in, and that was like five years ago. Ugh, whatever. The point is, he came around when I was working the mailbox angle and started giving me a hard time about the ‘legality of going through someone else’s mail.’ Don’t worry, I threw him off the scent by offering him a few cookies and mentioning how sad it is that the Mackenzie house wasn’t decorated this year and he backed off my case real quick. Got all quiet and squirrelly all of a sudden, just shook his head and said that it was a real shame before hustling off to the next house.

“I didn’t get anything definitive out of him, but I’m thinking that something went down with your neighbor and that’s why he hasn’t decorated yet. It’s either that, or he’s just as crazy about all this as you are and he wants to psych you out by waiting until literally the last second.”

Unable to accept that A. Mackenzie is anything other than the literal embodiment of evil, Fitz finds himself latching on to the notion that his enemy has been trying to get inside his head.

“Well, I’m not about to give him the satisfaction!” Hauling himself to his feel, Fitz starts pacing in front of the window. Pacing has always helped him think things through... it also makes him look cool. All the cool movie characters pace. “He’s cutting it awfully close by not having his decorations up yet. It’s in the rules that all decorations must be in place by Christmas day at the latest. Perhaps if I start running surveillance from midnight on… oh, that’s perfect! That way I can get him disqualified if he dares to hang a so much as a single string of lights. This is fantastic, don’t you think?”

A knock at the door saves Daisy from having to respond, though the bored look on her face speaks volumes that Fitz has firmly decided to be deaf to. It’s not Daisy’s fault that she doesn’t appreciate the glory of Christmas and competition. She’s never been into the decorating, but he knows that she’ll stick around for Jemma and that’s almost as important as Christmas. At least, it will be once Daisy starts threateningly running a candy cane across her throat in warning.

“Yes, yes. I know. You’ll shank me with peppermint candy if I tell Jemma you’ve been helping me. Your secret’s safe with me, I promise.” Pitching his voice louder, he yells towards the door rather than getting it himself. “Come in, it’s unlocked!”

It’s Jemma that bustles through the doorway first, but it’s Trip’s entrance that makes all the difference, each step bringing with him the pure scent of Christmas magic. Clapping his hands in glee, Fitz can’t keep the smile from his face as he takes in his friends and the gifts they came bearing.

At long last he can begin stage two of his three-pronged attack.


End file.
